Here's Your Mission, If You Choose To Accept It
by Lost In My Own Relm
Summary: Agent Arthur Kirkland is headed to Paris with Agent Francis Bonnefoy to collect information on the Germans. But not all is what it seems...


France was one of my most favorite places to go in the world. I loved the cuisine, the sights, the art, and the language; all of it! Well, except for the people. I found the French people snobby and self-conceited. Americans were more polite than these beauty queens! But right now was not the time to be focused on my burning hatred for the French; I was on a mission. Dark clouds rolled overhead as I stepped into the small café. Circular tables speckled the room while soft music played in the background. The gray and brown tones that decorated the teashop reminded me of London. Not many people were in the shop, but one man caught my eye immediately. He had blonde hair that framed his slender face and piercing blue eyes that read one thing: hello partner. I groaned as he approached the man. He was French. I slid into one of the slim-legged chairs as the man folded his hands together.

"Are you Arthur Kirkland?" he asked in fluent English.

"That depends; are you Francis Bonnefoy?" I asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. The man laughed.

"Why yes, I am" he said as he gave a devilish smile.

"You shouldn't give away your cover that easily!" I hissed as I peered around the room to make sure no one had been listening in. The coast was clear.

"Look who's an overprotective partner" Francis teased, twirling a strand of hair around his index finger.

"I am not! I don't want to lose my job or be killed because of something as simple as an idiot Frenchman being too loud!" I glared.

"Oh, Mon Omi, I wouldn't let anything happen to a partner of mine. Besides, if I did let you die, I would lose my head" Francis said as he dragged his finger over his throat to mimic a knife.

"You better not. And I guess I should do the same for you - _Even if you are a stupid Frenchman_ – if we have to work together" I said as a waitress approached.

"Can I get you two anything?" she asked cheerfully. I ordered a cup of tea and a plate of scones. Francis settled on a baguette and a latte. "I'll bring that right away for you sweethearts" she said bubbly.

"We are not a couple!" I objected, but she just laughed and walked away. A few minutes later, the waitress came back with our food.

"Thank you, Mon Cheri! May I ask your name?" Francis asked as the plates were set down in front of us.

"Bella " she said happily.

"Okay Bella, can you direct us to the Scandinavian Hotel?" Francis asked as he took a sip of coffee. Bella scribbled something onto a napkin and handed it to Francis. "Thank you, my dear" Francis said as he slipped the girl a five dollar tip. She giggled and walked away.

"So, that's where we're staying?" I asked as I took a taste of my tea. The hot liquid burned at my lip, but I ignored that. I was on business. The British Intelligence had given me a mission: spy on the Germans and report any suspicious activity immediately. They had also decided it would be a good idea to pair up with the French intelligence for the time being, so I was forced to work with this frog-faced idiot. I would much rather be working with a Russian or Chinese or even an American spy than this goofball. But you couldn't argue with Intelligence, so here I was.

"Yes. Intelligence didn't want us in a popularly used hotel, so they got us booked in this one" Francis said as he took a bite out of the baguette.

"Sounds smart enough. Have you seen any Germans?" I asked, keeping my voice in a hushed tone. Francis shook his head.

"Not one. But they'll show up. French Intelligence was sure they had plans in Paris, which we'll head up to in a few days. But first we have to build a cover." It seemed reasonable. Spend a few days here making it seem like we're were two traveling joes, maybe find a German or two, track them, and head up to Paris. Easy enough.

"Then let's go" I said as I got to my feet. Francis nodded. We waved goodbye to Lizzy, who grinned, and left the café. It was starting to rain. Pour, actually. The raindrops fell heavily from the sky, showering the street in wetness. I was use to the rain. London wasn't exactly the driest place on earth. I was about to step out when Francis grabbed my shoulder. He extended out his coat, which I cautiously accepted. It was a bit cold outside. The Frenchman popped an umbrella open and held it over him. I gave a glare, but no other sign of disapproval. We walked in silence to the hotel.


End file.
